


The Chase

by pterawaters



Series: Tumblr Prompts [18]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, Grief/Mourning, Multi, Polyamory, Scott and Lydia are FBI Agents, Stiles is an art thief, Triad Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 14:54:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1748615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pterawaters/pseuds/pterawaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott and Lydia are FBI agents still reeling from the loss of their third partner (and secret girlfriend), Allison. When they get a new case, it appears they've been specifically requested by the subject of their investigation, a mysterious art thief who calls himself "Stiles".</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Chase

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by an Anon! "  
> prompt: FBI agents Scott & Lydia chasing down dangerous criminal Stiles Stilinski, not knowing that he might chasing them too..."
> 
> Takes place in [Triad Verse](http://triadverse.tumblr.com/post/86154454124/triad-verse-faq)!

Lydia and Scott as FBI, Stiles as the guy they’re after

“We’ve got a new case,” Scott says, sitting down at his side of the three-terminal desk he shares with Lydia. The third side still has all of Allison’s things, but he and Lydia don’t talk about that. Scott pushes the folder Director Finstock gave him over to Lydia. “Art theft.”

“Art theft?” Lydia asks, taking the folder and flipping it open. “We’re better than this. We used to bring down warlords.” Her eyes cut over to Allison’s desk, but she doesn’t say it out loud. Neither of them will. Just like they had to be circumspect about their relationship with her before Allison’s death, Lydia and Scott can’t let on how much her death is affecting them. If they do, Finstock is bound to separate them. 

“It seems,” Scott says, leaning over and flipping a few pages back, “that the perp asked for us by name.” He’s uncovered a picture of a message the thief left, written in red where the painting he took used to hang. “See? Dear agents Martin and McCall, hope to see you soon.” There’s a smiley face drawn at the end of the message. 

Lydia sighs. “That sounds like a threat. It’s clearly a conflict of interest. Someone else should take the case.”

“I thought it was cute,” Scott says, pulling the paper closer so he can get another look. “And since when has ‘conflict of interest’ bothered you?”

“You know when,” Lydia snaps. Her face falls. “I’m sorry, Scott.” Lydia looks over a few more pages and sighs. “Sure. Let’s take the case.”

Scott lets out the breath he’d been holding. “Great! I’m sure this is just the thing to get us back into the swing of things.”

~*~

“What makes you think he’s going to hit this gallery next?” Scott asks, following Lydia into the building. Her heels clack loudly on the wooden floor, drawing the attention of all five people in the gallery. 

Lydia shows the gallery employee her badge, and Scott follows suit, before Lydia replies. “This gallery has the same security system as the last four robberies, and thus the same loophole in the software. It’s the only one in Beacon Hills that the thief has yet to hit.” She heads back toward the security office with the gallery employee.

“I’ll take a look around,” Scott tells her, breaking away from the parade. Lydia can take care of the computer stuff. Scott’s better at real life clues than cyber ones. He wanders around the gallery, looking at the security systems and the ingress and egress paths. 

One of the paintings catches Scott’s eye, so he stops to have a look at it. In the painting, two figures are bent over a third, who appears to be in some sort of distress. The whole painting is different shades of blue, with a few streaks of white near the top. Scott feels disturbingly connected to the painting.

Beside him, a man’s voice says, “Kind of a downer, huh?” Scott looks over and notices that the man is about his age, maybe a little younger. When he smiles at Scott, his cheeks dimple, and it reminds Scott of Allison. He even has the same dark hair and eyes, though his skin is dotted with moles, where Allison’s was flawless.

“What?” Scott asks when he realizes the man is staring at him, waiting for a response.

Pointing, he replies, “The painting. It’s beautiful, but too sad. I’d hate having that hanging on my wall all the time.”

“I like it.” Scott smiles at the stranger. “After all, only our sad moments highlight the happy ones.”

The man rolls his eyes, but he gives Scott a playful smile. “Well, if you want to get all philosophical about it! See,” he points across the gallery to a sculpture that looks vaguely pornographic. “I’d rather have something like that in my house.”

“Ah.” Scott can’t help but chuckle a little. Then he sticks out his hand, introducing himself. “Scott McCall.”

“Stiles,” the man says, shaking Scott’s hand and caressing the back of Scott’s hand with his other one. “No rings, Mr. McCall? How is that physically possible?”

Scott avoids cutting his eyes back toward where Lydia has disappeared. “I’m a workaholic,” Scott says instead. “Kinda hard to meet people.”

Stiles saunters a little closer, nudging Scott’s shoulder with his shoulder. “Sounds like you gotta get out more, Scotty boy.”

Usually Scott hates it when people call him Scotty, but it sounds great coming out of Stiles’ mouth. Scott’s fingers twitch, urging him to touch Stiles, even though Sties is a stranger and they’re in public. “Maybe that’s true.”

Stiles winks and saunters away. The sound of Lydia’s heels chases his departure and she shows up at Scott’s side.

“Did you find anything?” she asks, her voice tight and short. She’s not happy.

Scott resists the urge to pull Lydia close and rub her back until she feels better. He also resists the urge to gush about Stiles. It’s too soon. They’re both still grieving and it’s too soon. Scott didn’t even get Stiles’ number.

When Scott gets home, the blue painting is hanging in his living room. Suddenly everything slots into place.

Scott calls Lydia, saying, “I have a face and a nickname. There’s also a stolen painting in our apartment.”

Lydia makes an exasperated noise. “There’s an obscene sculpture sitting on the edge of the fountain outside HQ. It wasn’t there fifteen minutes ago.”

“He’s leaving presents for us, Lydia,” Scott tells her, sitting down on the couch and staring at the painting. “I think maybe he likes us.”

Scott can practically hear Lydia rolling her eyes. “You said you got a look at him. Is he at least hot?”

“Yeah,” Scott says, chuckling. “He’s– Yeah. What do we do?”

The whumph of Lydia’s car door closing comes across the line. “Babe,” she says, her voice softer – Allison called it her real-person voice. “We catch him. That’s what we do.”

Nodding, Scott sits back dropping his head onto the back of the couch. He sighs. “You’re right. I kow you’re right. Stiles is stealing valuable pieces of art. We can’t let him get away with it.”

Lydia snorts. “What the hell is a Stiles?”

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked reading this, you can visit me [on tumblr](http://pterawaters.tumblr.com/).


End file.
